


Empty

by lethargicProfessor



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1420456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethargicProfessor/pseuds/lethargicProfessor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>goodluckdetective asked you: I'm giving you two options, because the first is really hard. 1. Alfred dies </p>
<p> [2. Bruce figures out one of his children is dying from a second hand source]</p>
<p>For Goodluckdetective's Angst War</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty

The day Bruce found out Damian’s body was gone was the day he decided he would stop at nothing to bring him back. He had lost his son once: he couldn’t lose him again. The small, rational part of his mind told him he needed to stop, to be logical about the situation, but the fury in his chest drove it away. He _needed_ Damian back. He had lost too many children already.

He worked obsessively, forgoing Batman duties to track down whatever he could on Damian’s whereabouts. As soon as there was even the possibility of a clue somewhere, he took off after it, flying from Germany to Ethiopia to India back to Gotham to search for more clues, starting the journey over.

He ignored his friends and family, fielding their calls to voicemails and answering machines, deleting the load of them when he returned from yet another trip. Messages and emails were  glanced at only briefly; if they didn’t have any mention of Damian or information pertaining to his task, they were deleted. The rest of his children could handle Gotham on their own. This was his mission, and he could not fail Damian again.

A month and a half after he started working on tracking down Ra’s, he received five messages from Lucius Fox. Bruce registered them absently, but deleted them anyways. If it was Wayne business, Tim could handle it. So what if he missed another board meeting? No one cared. Besides, he had a cell of assassins he needed to interrogate in Bosnia-Herzegovina.

Later that night, after another dead-end, Bruce returned to his base in Sarajevo, seething. For elite assassins, they hadn’t offered much of anything. He checked his messages automatically, but moved to delete them as they came up.

_6 Missed Calls from: Lucius Fox._ Delete.

_23 Missed Calls from: Dick Grayson_. Delete.

_1 Missed Calls from: Jason Todd._ Unusual, but…Delete.

Bruce tuned out the rest of the calls on the machine, turning to his computers. Emails flooded his inbox, but were all promptly deleted as well. The last thing he was worried about was the state of his stocks in Wayne Enterprises.

He had a body to find.

* * *

 

Two months into tracking Damian down had Bruce working on a lead in Ukraine. This one seemed solid, for once. A group of drug runners in Poland had mentioned doing business with the League of Assassins (though they didn’t realize it at the time) by moving a group of large crates into the country. They weren’t allowed to look into the crates, but a few curious individuals pried them open anyways.

“They were, long?” One of the runners tried to explain, making the shape with his hands. “Long… _ciemny_. Dark _trumny._ ” Coffins.

Bruce hurried to Ukraine soon after that. The runners had delivered the crates only a few weeks ago, so there was still a chance to catch up to them.

Setting up his tracking systems took the better part of the night, but once he tapped into his satellite, everything ran smoothly.

Or would have, had his controls not been hijacked. Angrily, Bruce worked the computers, trying to get rid of whoever was messing with the controls, when the screen went black. “What now—“

The screen lit up, turning into a live broadcast of the _Vicki Vale_ show. The reporter smiled at the camera, shuffling her notes. “ _Moving on to matters close to home, there’s still no word on the condition of Wayne Enterprises’ CEO, Timothy Drake-Wayne.”_

The camera cut to a video clip of Tim walking with Lucius into Wayne Tower, waving away the reporters and paparazzi. He looked tired, and Bruce noted the slight hunch of his shoulders. Vicki continued the report over the clip. “ _As we reported earlier this month, Drake-Wayne has been hospitalized for unknown reasons. Bruce Wayne has been unavailable for comments, and Wayne Enterprises’ PR is keeping a tight lid on the situation. We will report more as it unfolds.”_

The screen flickered again, this time opening on a Metropolis station. The announcer stared grimly at the camera _. “Wayne stocks continue to fall as speculation surrounds the collapse of the young CEO, Timothy Drake-Wayne earlier this month. Sources tell us he has been placed in Intensive Care, but no one in the family has been available for comments. LuthorCorp. And Queen Industries have experienced increases in market prices—“_

The screen cut to black, the green command prompt flickering in the corner as it quickly typed out a message: _GO HOME_

* * *

 

The fastest red-eye flight from Ukraine took almost ten hours, and the gridlock from the airport to Gotham General took another two. By the time Bruce slid into the waiting room, it was early morning.

It was empty, save for Jason. He was hunched over his knees, nursing a cup of coffee, his suit rumpled. It looked slept in, the jacket discarded on the seat beside him. At the sound of his shoes, Jason looked up, surprised. “Bruce…?”

“What happened?” He walked over calmly, as if the anxiety that had been gnawing at him for twelve hours wasn’t eating him alive. “Where is everyone?”

Jason scrubbed at his eyes, setting the coffee down. “Um…Dick took Alfie home. Babs left…yesterday, I think?” He checked his watch, biting back a yawn, and nodded. “She said she’d handle patrol with the Birds.”

“What about Tim?” Jason frowned, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent in the sickly lighting of the hospital.

“Did you know Tim was sick?” His voice was odd, too quiet, too subdued for Jason – Bruce expected anger and maybe a couple of punches. Not a civil conversation from his second son. “He had a congenital heart defect. Did you know?”

He didn’t. Really, he didn’t know much of anything about Tim’s prior medical history. He assumed that it was kept on file. “No. What happened?”

“Well, he found out he had a congenital heart defect. Apparently his dad had too, but they didn’t know since Daddy Drake bit it before he could tell Tim.” Jason’s hands moved to dig through his pockets, pulling out a cigarette. “He collapsed a month, month and a half ago over at work and he’s been here since.”

“Where is he now? I want to see him.” The younger man frowned, rolling the cigarette between his fingers, and shook his head. “Jason, take me to him.”

“You can’t.” Bruce turned, clenching his fists and Dick walked over slowly. Jason stood, grabbing his jacket. “You can’t see him, Bruce. You need to leave.”

“I’m not leaving without seeing him.” He didn’t drop everything in his case to leave empty handed.

“Good luck with that,” Jason muttered, stepping away as Dick stomped over, gripping the front of Bruce’s shirt.

“How _dare_ you?” He hissed, throwing Bruce off balance. Fury burned in his eyes as he nearly lifted Bruce off his feet. “We called you over _and over_. We tried _everything_ to get to you, and now you show up like nothing?”

“Dickie, let it go. It’s too late now,” Jason said, keeping lookout down the hall. Dick growled, deep and primal, and shoved Bruce back. “We should go.”

Reeling, Bruce sat heavily on one of the chairs, out of breath suddenly. “Where’s Tim?”

Jason pulled Dick away before the elder man could try to assault him again, looking pityingly at him. “Boss…you’re too late. Tim’s dead.”

“I hope your mission was worth it,” Dick spat, gripping Jason’s arm as they walked toward the exit.

Bruce sat in the waiting room for hours, slowly digesting what had happened. He considered the possibility of it maybe being an alternate world – calm Jason and angry Dick could have convinced anyone, really, but he knew, deep down, that this was real.

How many more sons did he have to lose?


End file.
